


Something About Fate

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fate & Destiny, First Kiss, Fortune Telling, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Psychic Abilities, Roommates, Tarot, Tarot Cards, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11007315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: Dean decides to go to a new psychic in town - just for the hell of it, of course - with his roommate, Castiel, and doesn't get the reading he was expecting.





	Something About Fate

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, a big thanks to [whelvenwings](http://whelvenwings.tumblr.com) for betaing for me and making sure this didn't suck as much as it could have.
> 
>  
> 
> [Link to the Tumblr ficlet](http://thebloggerbloggerfun.tumblr.com/post/161100224696/something-about-fate)

“Hey, Cas, have you ever been to a psychic?”

Dean watched as Castiel looked up from his book with his eyebrows pinched together.

“No.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged.

“Garth texted me. Apparently there’s one in town that he went to yesterday and he’s _obsessed._ He said she really knows her stuff.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow before returning his attention to the textbook he had sprawled across their kitchen counter, so he could eat and study at the same time - a sight that was not all that uncommon in their apartment.

“Psychics don’t exists, Dean,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he turned the page. “People who claim to be psychic are scammers hoping to draw in the desperate or the gullible. Garth is the latter, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, he’s not -”

“Remember when Gabriel told him that stop signs with a white rim around them were optional?”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the counter from his roommate.

“Duh, Cas. I _know_ that they aren’t legit. Everyone does. But at the very least they’re supposed to be super good at reading people and then you essentially pay them to tell you what their first impression of you is.”

A small smile crept its way across Castiel’s face.

“I could tell you that for free, you know.”

Dean flipped him off as he got up and pulled out an apple from the refrigerator, not even bothering to look back as he did so.

“Whatever. I think it could be kind of cool.”

“Then by all means...” Castiel wrote something down in a notepad and flipped to the next page. “I think you should do it. I have free time tomorrow if you’d like to find this psychic then.”

Dean tossed the apple between his hands.

“You’d come with me?”

“Of course. I would never miss the opportunity to witness someone predicting your death.”

Castiel laughed as Dean flipped him off again.

***

Dean parked at a McDonald's a block down from where his navigation app told him the psychic’s shop should be. He didn’t want Pam - the name Garth told him she went by - to be able to glean anything from the car he drove. Just in case.

“What do you hope to gain from this?” Castiel asked, keeping in perfect step next to Dean.

“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s like - haven’t you ever been curious about this stuff?”

“No.”

Dean nudged Castiel as they walked, unsuccessfully trying to get him to walk into a fire hydrant.

“Well, I am. All that mystical, supernatural mumbo jumbo - I think it’s kind of cool.”

Dean cleared his throat when he saw Castiel side-eyeing him.

“Again, I don’t _believe_ in it. I’m just curious.”

“Alright,” Castiel said, failing to hide a smile.

They stopped outside of a small shop tucked between a tattoo parlor and a shady-looking law firm. On the window, painted in bright red lettering, was “ _Madame Pamela - Psychic Extraordinaire and Teller of Fortunes_ ”.

The window above the door was shattered, as though a rock had been thrown through - but then again, this wasn’t the most pristine part of town.

“You’re sure about this?” Castiel asked, staring at the broken window.

Dean only winked and opened the door.

Inside, the smell of incense hit him like a punch to the face. The scent was almost overwhelming, but no more than he should have expected at a fortune teller’s shop.

A few trinkets were hung from the ceiling in various patterns down a cramped hallway, and the lights were kept as dim as they could be in the middle of the day.

“Are you here for a session with Madame Pamela?”

Dean looked over at a small desk at the end of the hallway, where a petite redhead was sitting with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Uh, yep. Sure am,” he said, walking further down.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Um...” Dean looked over at Castiel who shrugged. “No. I didn’t know I needed one.”

“That’s alright.” The redhead quickly flipped through a small notebook and smiled. “Madame Pamela has an unusually empty day today, so we could fit you in right now if you’d like.”

Dean ignored Castiel’s snort of derision.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect.” The redhead looked back up and smiled pleasantly, also seemingly ignoring Castiel. “It will be forty dollars for a fifteen minute session. Will that be cash or credit?”

Dean bit back his exclamation of surprise and pulled out forty dollars in cash from his wallet.

He was starting to get the feeling that this wasn’t going to be as worth it as he’d first thought.

“Whenever you’re ready, feel free to enter through the door to your right.”

Dean blinked, only just noticing the door that was on the left-hand side of the hallway, with a small white bench just beside it.

“Oh. Okay. Do you want to tell her I’m here, or -”

The redhead smiled.

“She knows.”

“Oookay.” Dean looked over at Castiel who had sat himself on the bench next to the door. “Are you coming in?”

“I don’t want to distract her with my presence.” Castiel said, pulling out a small book from his bag. “You go in. I’ll be here.”

Dean shrugged his shoulders and pulled open the door.

This room was much bigger than the hallway they’d entered through, and had a curtain of dangling beads that Dean had to part before he could see the interior. It was softly lit with flickering candles; curtains covered the large painted window, and a rounded table in the shape of a crescent moon was in the center with a blue tablecloth covering it to the floor. On the other side of the table was a woman with brown hair and sunglasses, looking as un-fortune teller as Dean could possibly imagine. Instead of the stereotypical robes or _whatever_ that he’d been expecting, he was instead looking at a woman in jeans and a tank top, shuffling cards over the table.

“Welcome, hun. Why don’t you take a seat and we’ll get started.”

“You’re the psychic?” Dean asked, suddenly wondering if this was all an elaborate trick.

“Sure am.” She gestured towards the seat in front of the table with a quick little upward tilt of her chin. “Sit down and I’ll prove it.”

Dean licked his lips and hesitantly seated himself down on the single chair. He fidgeted under the stare he could feel behind the sunglasses she was wearing.

“So, what kind of visit are you hoping for, handsome?” she asked, smiling politely as the sound of shuffling cards filled the room.

“Uh -”

“Career, school, wealth, love -” Pamela tilted her head and paused her shuffling. “Why did you bring your lover, only to have them wait outside?”

Dean frowned.

“Uh, I didn’t bring a… lover.”

Pamela nodded in understanding. “Right, right, of course. Excuse me, sometimes I mix up the present and future tense of the information I glean from clients.”

Dean sat back in the chair, squinting in confusion. Was this her way to throw him off - to read his reactions, or something?

“Cas and I… would never date,” Dean said, folding his arms against his chest.

It was true. Sure, he and Cas had been paired together as roommates during their freshman year and had gotten along just fine ever since, but that didn’t mean they would be _lovers._ Cas was too… Cas. Besides the fact that he didn’t know which way Cas swung, they were too different. From two totally separate walks of life.

It could never work.

Not that he’d ever thought about it.

Pamela smiled and fanned the deck of cards out evenly across the table in a swift, efficient gesture, and tapped the center of the table.

“If you wish to test Fate, then pick a card while thinking about your… not lover, then,” she said, crossing her hands in front of herself.

Dean chewed on his lower lip and studied the cards.

They were a rich gold color with a hint of blue interwoven on the backs - a blue that vaguely reminded him of Castiel’s eyes.

With a huff, Dean picked a card in the middle of the left-hand side of the deck and flipped it over, revealing a naked man and woman standing beneath a bright sun and angelic figure.

Written in fluid writing just below the artwork was “ _The Lovers”._

“There you have it.” Pamela grinned. “Even a blind woman like myself can see that you two can’t fight fate.”

“Bullshit.” Dean tossed the card in front of her. “This is rigged. They’re probably all the same card... and you’re probably not blind.” He almost regretted the words as soon as he'd spoken them, but he felt angry and defensive, and he shrugged off his doubts. The psychic was just having fun with him.

Pamela shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair. “Pick another card, then. Actually, pick two more. Then I can really do a reading.”

Dean scowled and picked one on the right-hand side of the deck, and the farthest left card, revealing what looked like a man and a woman exchanging goblets, and a figure sitting blindfolded in a chair while holding two swords across their chest.

“The Two of Cups and the Two of Swords.”

Pamela took the two cards from Dean’s hand and set them on each side of the previous card that he chose.

“Most people can’t run from fate, hun. You have one card that symbolizes love and partnership - a romantic union between two people -” She said, tapping on the two of cups, “- and one that is the epitome of a balanced and beautiful relationship. Fate has spoken.”

“I think Fate’s a little confused,” Dean said, then pointed at the card with the swords. “So, what about that one? It doesn’t look lovey dovey to me.”

“Well, that’s what makes this reading interesting.” Pamela held up the card and expertly spun it around in her hands a few times. “The man you brought with you - what’s his name?”

“You don’t know?” Dean retorted, feeling a little smug.

“It’s not something the universe wants to reveal to me, kid. But I am getting something -” She paused, taking the card and holding it up to her forehead. “- angelic?”

“His name is James,” Dean said bluntly, though he could already hear Castiel’s memorized speech about the Angel of Thursday in his mind.

Pamela hummed as though she wasn’t convinced.

“Anyway, I can sense that the man you brought with you is fated to be… let’s call him your soulmate. For lack of a better word.” Pamela placed the card between the other two. “Fate is doing all it can to bring the two of you together - so don’t be surprised when it feels like the universe is setting things up. But ultimately, the choice is up to you.”

She ran a finger down the middle of the figure holding the swords.

“The Two of Swords. The card of decisions. This tells me that there will come a time where you’ll have to make a choice about how you feel. A yes -”

Pamela held the card back up in front of Dean’s line of sight.

“- or a no.”

The card vanished with a twist of her wrist.

This had not been the reading that Dean had wanted. He’d expected to get some shit about school or maybe about some girls or whatever, but about Cas? No, this had passed well into the realm of ridiculous and had hit Dean’s threshold for bullshit.

“I choose ‘no’.” Dean stood abruptly and nodded his head once. “Thanks for the reading, but I have to get going.”

Pamela shrugged her shoulders and began gathering up the cards.

“You know the way out.”

Dean paused, waiting to see if she was going to say any last words - but when only the sound of silence was heard, he tugged the door open and shut it behind him.

Castiel looked up and replaced his bookmark.

“That was fast.”

“C’mon,” Dean muttered, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and waited for Castiel to open the door for him.

Castiel frowned as they walked out the door and back down the street.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah...” Dean shrugged his shoulders and attempted a smile. “You were right.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“About what?”

Dean nudged him playfully with his shoulder.

“It’s all bullshit.”

Dean glanced over when Castiel’s ‘I-told-you-so’ hum turned into a sound of confusion. In his hand was a tarot card, decorated in gold and blue trim.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Dean asked, snatching it from his friend’s hand.

“It was in my pocket.”

Dean turned it over to see the figures of the The Lovers staring back at him - mocking him.

“Do you know what it’s supposed to mean?” Castiel asked curiously, tilting his head as Dean stared.

“Nope.”

Dean tore the card down the middle and tossed the pieces into the nearest trash.

***

“Jesus, who’s yelling?”

Dean winced as he and Castiel began to pass an apartment complex after their psych test, where the sound of an argument from one of the top floors just above them began rising in volume.

“ _You know what? No! I’m done! Take your flowers, take your apology, and you can shove it all up… up where the sun don’t shine, you hear?”_

Castiel gripped his textbooks tightly against his chest and made a face at Dean.

They paused, listening to the lower voice mumble something in response before-

_“Leave! I said leave! I - I deserve better than you, Doug! I’ve learned that much.”_

Dean raised a fist and gave an impressed nod to no one in particular.

There was a few moments of silence before a door slammed and a man in a police uniform began trudging down the stairs with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low, not even bothering to look up when he passed the two of them.

Dean whistled.

“Damn, I hope I never piss off -”

_“I said to take your flowers!”_

They looked up as a blonde woman leaned out the window above them, gripping a large bouquet of red roses, before tossing them forward and slamming the window shut behind her.

“Whoa, look out!”

Dean made a grab for them as the bundle fell directly towards Castiel’s face, and managed to catch them before impact.

Castiel blinked and shifted his books to rest over his heart.

“My hero.”

Dean made a face and studied the flowers. They were a, naturally, a little wilted, but a pretty expensive looking bouquet nonetheless. Whatever this Doug had done must have been pretty bad if the woman was refusing these.

He looked up when he heard Castiel chuckling.

“What?”

“It’s just -” Castiel shook his head. “Looks like you’re next to get married.”

Dean stared at the bouquet and dropped it onto the cement like it was a hot iron.

“Please,” Dean said with an eyeroll and picked up the pace again. “I’m never getting married.”

There was a brief pause before Castiel jogged to catch up with him.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean said, trying his best to forget about that damn Two of Swords from a few days ago. “Why tie yourself down to one person forever, you know?”

He looked over to see Castiel frowning ever-so-slightly.

“What about you? You gonna get married?”

Castiel shrugged. “If I find the right person.”

Dean hummed and cleared his throat, letting his mind wander _briefly_ to what it would be like married to Castiel. They already lived together so that wouldn’t change, but they’d each have a ring on their fingers and they would be able to -

That train of thought screeched to a halt, before it could run out of control.

 _Damn that psychic,_ Dean thought, shaking his head. He wouldn't even have entertained the thought, if she hadn’t put it in there in the first place.

“Do you believe in all that stuff? Like soulmates or whatever?” he asked, hoping to hear a loud and resounding “no” to put his mind at ease.

“I don’t know,” Castiel murmured, staring at his feet. “I believe that statistically, if one were to do the math, there would have to be one person on the planet that you would be the most compatible with - in regard to habits, love language, and DNA. So, scientifically, a perfect match might exist.”

Dean nudged him again.

“You believe in _soulmates,_ ” he said in a teasing voice.

“You believe in _psychics,”_ Castiel shot back, shoving him forwards.

Dean rolled his eyes and brushed himself off.

“No, I don’t,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “They’re all fake.”

He turned back around to find that Castiel had backtracked and was now picking up the bouquet of roses from where Dean had dropped them a few yards back.

He had them grasped in front of him and strode forwards, almost a perfect picture of what he imagined a bride would do on her wedding day.

“Seemed a shame to leave them.” Castiel said, bringing them close to his nose and inhaling deeply, eyes closed like a freaking Disney princess.

Dean caught himself staring. Had he really never noticed how handsome Cas was?

“Whatever,” Dean muttered, turning back around. “Just don’t expect me to water them.”

***

The worst part about going to that psychic was the aftermath of it.

No matter what he did, Dean couldn’t escape the thoughts that Pamela had planted in his mind.

_Fate._

_Lovers._

_Soulmates._

As much as he didn’t believe any of that bullcrap, he now had Castiel tied to it in his memory. He began to notice little things about him that he hadn’t noticed before.

When Castiel fell asleep on the couch, Dean could see his eyelashes barely flutter as he dreamed.

When Castiel laughed, his nose crinkled to match the lines that usually framed his eyes.

When Castiel was deep in thought, his lips pursed adorably.

What if they _did_ date?

Dean would get to kiss those lips.

But was that even something that he wanted? Did he _want_ to kiss Cas? Would he even be thinking about all of this if it hadn’t been for Pamela?

“Dean, are you alright?”

Dean blinked and quickly brought himself mentally back to the diner, where he and Cas were ordering.

“What?”

Castiel frowned.

“You were staring at me for like a minute. Do I have something on my face?”

Dean flushed and brought the menu up to his face to hide it.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you.”

“Hmmm.” Castiel chewed on his lower lip as he stared at the menu. “Shame Sam couldn’t make it tonight.”

Dean shrugged. “That’s what getting a girlfriend does to you, I guess.”

The waitress was a perky brunette who left with their beverage order - because Dean wasn’t quite ready to order his food, seeing as he’d been apparently staring at Cas instead of his menu - but not before giving Castiel a flirtatious wink.

Dean’s mood instantly soured.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered. “When she gets back, just tell her I want biggest burger they have.”

He moved to get up, but stopped when Castiel’s hand rested on his arm.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” he asked, his voice laced with concern and his head tilted endearingly. “You’ve been… not yourself, recently.”

“M’fine, Cas,” he said, forcing a smile and moving his arm out of his grasp. “Just gotta pee.”

Dean spent a good two minutes just staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to get himself to focus. He’d been so out of it since his trip to the psychic that if he believed in magic, he might think that she’d cursed him.

Dean knew that he liked dudes.

It was just a fact.

When it came to who he dated, guy or girl, didn’t really matter to him.

But this was _Cas._

Sure, he was a reasonably attractive guy, but he also cared about books more than he cared about most people, thought that spinach was a normal food to eat regularly, and on top of all of that, was his best friend and roommate.

Even if Dean _was_ starting to develop feeling for him - _which he wasn’t -_ he would never risk ruining that friendship by making things awkward for them when Cas ultimately rejected him.

This was all hypothetical, of course.

Because Dean and Castiel were not ever going to be lovers.

Dean ran a hand through his hair once and took a deep breath before he made his way back out towards their table. Castiel was apparently already tucking into the burger and salad he’d ordered, and Dean nearly tripped when he got close enough to their table to get a good look at his own giant burger.

“Your shoelace is untied,” Castiel said, wiping at his mouth with a napkin.

Sure enough, the laces that he’d haphazardly tucked into the sides of his shoes without even bothering to tie them had slipped out and tried to kill him.

“I just can’t win today,” Dean said with a sigh, and bent down to shove the laces back into their proper place.

Almost immediately, shouts and whoops started echoing throughout the diner, beginning close to the table he was kneeling in front of, until it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

“What -” Dean said, cutting himself off when he looked up to see everyone staring at him and clapping with huge smiles on their faces. “I don’t -”

“Say yes!” someone yelled.

It was like a light switch flipped on.

There he was, kneeling in front of Cas, in their favorite restaurant.

“Oh, no -” He shot up and waved his hands as Castiel looked on in amusement. “We’re not - I’m not- this isn’t -”

The talking died down as he shouted over the crowd.

“Misunderstanding! Sorry! We’re not getting married. We’re not even together! Like _at all_ , OK, not even a _little_ bit!” Dean awkwardly sat himself back down at the table and sighed loudly, only to get a raised eyebrow from Castiel.

“Really?”

“What?” Dean asked defensively. “Did you want me to lie?”

“No, but that was -” Castiel dropped his gaze and began stabbing at his salad with his fork, “- excessive.”

“Well, we’re not.” Dean picked up his burger and bit into it aggressively. “Just telling it like it is.”

Castiel stared down at his plate and didn’t say another word to him for the rest of the meal.

***

“Two for the 10:15 showing, please,” Dean said, pointing up at the banner above the ticket window. “Well, one. One for me and then one for him. Seperately.”

He pointed next to him where Castiel was standing.

The kid behind the counter looked up at him and then towards Castiel, his finger hovering above the keyboard.

“So…. did you not want the couple’s night discount, then?”

“Huh? Oh… no, we do,” Dean said, never one to turn down a deal. “But we’re not a couple. Just so you know.”

The kid’s eyes squinted in confusion and Dean sighed.

“Give us the discount, because there’s two of us. I was just letting you know that we’re not together.”

“Oookay, that’ll be-”

“Excuse us for a moment,” interrupted Castiel.

Dean felt a hand grasp him roughly around the wrist and before he knew it, Castiel was dragging him away from the ticket counter and out the theater doors into the parking lot.

“Cas, why are you-”

“What is your _problem_?” Castiel whirled around once they were out of view of any observers, fists clenched clenched at his side with the most livid expression Dean had ever seen on his face.  

“Whoa, hey-”

“You’ve spent a majority of the past month making sure _everyone_ in the city knows that we’re not together.” Castiel stepped forwards and Dean took an instinctive step back. “If there’s even been the smallest hint of that someone _might_ think we’re a couple, you’ve squashed that concept completely. We _get_ it, Dean. The _whole world_ gets it by now.”

Dean shrunk back from the wrath that dripped from Castiel’s words.

“But we’re not a couple,” he muttered.

“I know!” Castiel threw his hands up in exasperation. “Everyone knows! You’ve made sure of that! But you’re making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be, and having you constantly declare it is childish, and let me tell you - it does not make me feel great, so-”

Castiel jabbed his finger into Dean’s chest with every word.

“What. Is. Your. Problem.”

Dean looked back at the eyes that were usually so friendly but now were glaring daggers, cutting deeper into him the longer he stared.

He looked away.

“Is the idea of dating me really that repulsive to you?”

Castiel’s voice had lost its hard edge and Dean almost wished that he was yelling at him again. Anything was better than hearing how defeated his friend seemed. “Is the idea of people even _thinking_ we're together really so bad?”

Dean took a deep breath and glanced back over at him.

“Cas, I -”

“Don’t.” Castiel shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a physical barrier between the two of them. “I’m going home. Goodnight, Dean.”

“I can -” Dean cleared his throat and jangled his keys when Castiel turned to walk away. “I’ll drive you...”

“I’m walking.”

His tone was final, and all Dean could do was watch him walk away - Pamela’s words echoing in his head.

_There will come a time where you’ll have to make a choice about how you feel._

Dean thought he saw Castiel wipe at his face before hunching his shoulders and striding away.

_A yes or a no._

Fuck.

***

Dean gripped the steering wheel of the Impala tightly as he sat outside of their apartment complex, wracking his brain for a way to fix this.

The whole point of denying everything was to protect the friendship that he already had with Castiel, and all it had done was tear it apart.

Castiel hated him, he had no doubt about. The fury in his eyes while he’d yelled was worse than anything Dean had seen before - more anger than he thought Castiel was capable of.

The worst part was, Dean had come to realize that everything he’d been trying to deny to himself for a month was a lie.

The idea of dating Cas wasn’t repulsive at all.

It was very, very appealing.

So much so that it scared him.

Dean wasn’t sure when he’d started to feel that way, but it had to have been before the trip to the psychic. Pamela had only sped up the process of facing his feelings.

He rested his forehead on the steering wheel and shut his eyes, before taking a deep breath and heading towards his apartment door.

The lights were already out when he got there, so he quietly shut the door behind him.

Dean found Castiel with a blanket tossed around him, curled into a ball in the corner of the living room couch with his bag propped up in front of him.

“Cas?”

Castiel shifted around, but said nothing.

“Cas, can we talk?”

No response.

Dean exhaled and sat down on the other far corner of the couch, enough to give Castiel space if he wanted it, but close enough to have a conversation.

“So, first off, I’m sorry.”

Dean clasped his hands together tightly and barreled onwards before he psyched himself out.

“I made you feel like shit and I didn’t mean to.”

Still no response from the other side of the couch.

“Remember when we went to that psychic last month?” Dean cleared his throat and stared down at his lap. “While I was in there talking to Pamela, she told me that… like… you and I were going to become lovers. That fate was going to bring us together.”

Castiel looked up, narrowing what looked to be red-rimmed eyes.

“Is that was this is about? Something a so-called psychic told you?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. “It scared me. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Of _course_ she told you that, asshole!” Castiel took the pillow that he’d been resting his head on and threw it at him. “I was _there._ It was an easy straw to grasp and make believable!”

“I know that _now!”_ Dean dropped his head into his hands.

“Don’t worry. I know you don’t want to date me.” Castiel said, flopping back down. “You’ve made that clear.”

“But…” Dean swallowed. _Now or never. Yes or no._ “But… I do.”

“... what?”

Dean’s heart was racing a mile a minute as he searched for the right words. The simple ones.

“I want to date you, Cas.” He wrung his hands together tighter. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had already, but since that’s in the pits now anyway, I figure - what the hell. I want to date you. I want to kiss you. I want to be able to point at you and call you my boyfriend and all that cheesy, romantic crap.”

Dean licked his lips and looked over at Castiel, who was now sitting up, staring at him blankly.

“Pamela told me that pretty soon I’d have to make a decision about how I feel. Yes or no. And I tried to put it off, ‘cause I was scared. Obviously that was all bullshit, but - just in case, um, I choose yes.” He cleared his throat. “But, you know. If you don’t feel the same, I get it, and I’ll stop being so weird about everything.”

Castiel stared at him in silence, and Dean could almost see the gears turning in his head, trying to catch up with all of the curve balls that had been thrown at him.

Then, ever so slowly, Castiel leaned forwards, only stopping when his face was an inch away from Dean’s, and Dean had ceased breathing.

“You’re an idiot,” Castiel said softly and closed the distance between them.

Dean melted against him almost immediately, letting Castiel continue pressing forwards until Dean's back was against the couch, with Castiel on top of him.

They broke apart just long enough for Castiel to whisper,

“But I choose yes, too.”

Dean couldn't even make a noise; he only stared up into Castiel’s eyes. He'd just been kissed by Castiel. By _Castiel._ And it had been _perfect._ He reached up, and wrapped his arms around the small of Castiel’s back.

There was a small _thump_ when Dean dropped his leg down, accidentally kicking something over.

“Shit,” he murmured, a bit breathlessly. “I think that was your bag.”

Castiel glanced towards the sound, looking almost annoyed that something was interrupting them, and nodded.

“Yeah, hold on. My stuff’s everywhere -” He reached over Dean and picked something up from off of the ground, a confused frown on his face.

“This isn’t mine.”

The familiar glint of blue and gold caught Dean’s eye.

In Castiel’s hand was the card with the blindfolded figure. 

The Two of Swords _._

Dean reached up and plucked it from his fingers, and flung it into a dark corner of the room.

“We make our own fate, Cas.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow in the direction he’d thrown the card, and smiled.

“Sounds good to me.”


End file.
